The Girl with the Alchemy Tattoo
by pachirisu
Summary: Roy Mustang wants to- no, need to- learn alchemy. He hasn't had much luck in central, so makes the move out to the countryside, where he finds life is a lot different. Rated T for implied/referenced child abuse
1. Teacher

Roy Mustang was sixteen years old when he enlisted as Berthold Hawkeye's apprentice. He had lived in a pub most of his life, so living in the small rural town where the famous alchemist resided was unusually quiet for him.

"Teach me Flame Alchemy."

"I won't teach anyone flame alchemy. The secrets of it are my secrets, and no one else's."

"I beg you, please, teach me!"

The old alchemist tutted. "You're young, and naïve. You have a lot to learn before you can even dream of learning flame alchemy. Tell me boy, what age are you?" He stared at Roy, standing up to get a good look at him.

"Sixteen, sir."

"Only sixteen… Fine. I'll teach you, but not Flame Alchemy. I haven't quite perfected it yet, but I can teach you basic alchemy."

Roy's eyes lit up, but his smile disappeared as he saw the somber look on the other's face. "Thank you."

"You will stay here. We have a spare room upstairs. You will study during the day, and will have Sundays off. Your spare time will be taken up with doing chores. Clearly we can't keep a house this big clean on our own. How does this sound to you?" 

Roy sighed quietly. He knew it would be a lot of work, granted, but he wasn't sure he could cope with the amount of work suggested, _and _chores.

"Excuse me, sir. You said we… is it not just you living here?"

"No. As my wife died a few years back, it's now just me and my daughter," he chuckled. "She does a good job at cleaning and cooking."

The alchemist stretched. "It's almost time for dinner. Will you be staying tonight? You may begin learning tonight if you wish."

"No…" Roy shook his head, "I have a hotel booked in the town. If you don't mind, I'd like to phone my mother and talk to her before I start."

"Fine, fine. Off you go then, boy." Hawkeye shooed him out, and Roy bowed his head quickly as he left.

As he stepped out into the rain outside, Roy smiled to himself, tucking his hands into his pockets. _Finally, I get to learn alchemy. _As he reached the iron gate at the end of the garden, he heard muffled yelling from inside the house. He turned back to look at the house, but saw nothing. Thinking he imagined it, he turned away again, continuing out of the path and into the street.

Soaked to the skin because of the rain, Roy finally reached the small hotel where he would be staying. He changed his clothes in his room, leaving the rain covered ones hanging up. He wandered downstairs, requesting use of the phone. He dialed in the number for central, and then the number for the bar he called home, praying that someone was there to pick up. Thankfully, the phone was picked up after three rings, and the husky voice of Madame Christmas answered.

"Good evening, mother."

"Ah, Roy-Boy. How did it go?"

"Good! He's taking me on," he answered. With a dejected sigh, he added, "He won't teach me Flame Alchemy though."

"Well, you did say that was to be expected. You said most alchemists don't share their secrets, right?"

"I did. I'm hoping that one day, he'll tell me the secret of his alchemy. But for now, just the standard kind is enough for me. Oh, and I'll be staying out here. He's offered me a room at his house. I'm pretty sure I have to earn my keep though. Chores, you know."

"Maybe you'll learn how to clean properly. I've seen the state of your room, you know."

Roy sighed. "I know, I know. I can't clean it when I'm all the way out here, though, so you're going to have to do that yourself."

"Don't be so rude, or I'll be on the first train over there to bring you home!" She chuckled, before returning to talking, her tone noticeably softer than before.

"Good luck, Roy. I hope you find what you want out there."

"Thank you, mother." He paused a minute, waiting to see if she had anything else to say. "Well then, I guess I should be getting to bed. I've been using the phone for a while, and it's not exactly free."

"Alright, son. Goodnight. Don't forget to call once in a while."

"I won't, don't worry. Night." He hung the phone up, throwing cens onto the counter for use of the phone. That was it. He was on his own.

As he trudged up the stairs, his mind wandered to the house he had been in earlier. It looked dirty, and he was pretty sure he had seen bugs inside it. He was _not_ looking forward to living there, especially if there was anything more dangerous than bugs lurking in the building.

Roy settled into the bed of his hotel room. The cream carpets and white curtains reminded him of the guest room back home, and he shuddered thinking about the change of atmosphere he would have tomorrow.

Roy bounced of bed at 8am, ready to get to the Hawkeye's house for nine. It was cold outside, but at least the rain had subsided. He trekked through the little village and out the other side, before walking up the path that lead into the house. He knocked on the door, and it was opened almost immediately by Berthold.

"You were waiting for me," Roy noted as he stepped into the house.

"Of course. You're late." Roy checked his watch; he was sure he'd left in time, and sure enough, his watch read 8:55.

"Anyway, you're here now. I will show to your room, and then we can begin." He took off up the stairs before Roy had a chance to even react. He grabbed his case from the floor, following the older man up the stairs at breakneck pace.

His room was cramped, but it was nowhere near as bad as he expected it. It was a little dusty, but there were no visible signs of bugs, and the bed sheets looked fresh. Had they cleaned it up for his arrival? Roy would never know, but the lack of living creatures in his room pleased him greatly.

"Downstairs now. I have the books all set out for you." Books? No one had ever mentioned books. Roy had seen alchemists- they transmuted with a circle, some even with just their hands. He didn't think books would be involved, at all.

There was a small table in the center of the room, and on it lay a few open books, a pen, and paper. The seat was pulled in close to the table, and Hawkeye pulled it out, offering it to Roy, who gladly took the seat.

"Learn the concept of 'All is one, and one is all'. That is one of the main principles of alchemy. I will give you until the end of the day. I'll be in my study if you need me in an emergency. Those books will tell you all you need to know." With that, Hawkeye turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving a bewildered Roy with the books. He flicked through the first few pages of the books, before deciding the only thing he could do was actually read them. With the pen in his hand, Roy made notes on everything he could find on 'All is one and one is all'.

It was dark before he moved from the table. A dinner was set on the table, clearly without him noticing. It was still hot, so without taking into consideration what it was or how I got there, he ate it, barely even pausing to chew. According the clock on the wall, it was 7:00, and he only had a little more time to figure out the riddle proposed to him.


	2. Meals

"Boy. Wake up."

A sharp poke in the back made Roy Mustang sit up straight in his seat. He glanced at the clock. 9am. He'd fallen asleep while doing his research, and had failed to find out what he was asked. He had, however, managed to get ink all over his face in his sleep, and smudged the little writing he had done.

"So. What does it mean?"

Roy swallowed hard. He's seen it somewhere, but without it written down, his could barely remember what he had read.

"Uh, all comes from one, and therefore all is one…?"

"Close enough. Here's your breakfast. Eat, clean up this mess, and then join me in the library."

"Yes sir!"

He nibbled at the toast he had been made quickly, all while having the cloth left by Hawkeye rubbing circles on the table at the same time. He was only one day in, and he could already feel like this was going to take a long time. He downed the coffee, closed the book, and reset the table the way it had been when he entered the small room.

He left the plate and cup piled on top of each other, and walked quietly up the stairs to the library. He was left guessing as to where it was, and had to open practically every door to get to it. The room was large and filled floor to ceiling with books on every topic, from alchemy, to gardening, cooking, and even romance novels. He laughed slightly as he passed them on his was to where Berthold was seated.

"You have passed my initial test. That piece of information you managed to find in that book will be very important as you progress in learning alchemy. Do not forget it."

Roy nodded silently, glancing down to the books lying closed in front of him. Just from their titles he could tell that this was going to be a lot more difficult than what he was reading yesterday.

"Basic Alchemy books. These books are in the house of every alchemist in the country, and probably beyond too. They are, as I already stated, the basics of alchemy. These will form the foundations of your knowledge of the science." He lifted the books, one, two, three, and thrust them into Roy's arms. "Read. Learn. Tell me what you learn. You have until the end of the week. You may use other books from this library, but I doubt you have the knowledge of how to use them yet. You can stay here, or go to the room you were in yesterday. I will be in the town all day. Goodbye."

It was a moment before Roy managed to absorb all the things Berthold had just said to him. "Okay. Thank you."

Roy sat beside the window as he watched his master leave the rickety house. He rolled onto his back, picking up a book. Thankfully the books were labeled in the correct reading order, so at least he had a fair idea of where to start. Reading was never his strong point, and he wasn't looking forward to all this studying if it mainly involved reading and writing. He rolled onto his stomach, standing up to cross the room to the desk in the corner. He fished through the drawers until he found some clean paper and a pen. He picked the first book again, the pen hovering over the paper, but no matter how much he read the page over and over; he had no idea what it was talking about.

It took him three hours to write one page of facts, and even then, he had no idea what it meant. He was good at finding and regurgitating things it seemed, but it was a whole other story trying to find out what they meant. Roy stood up, stretching his limbs with a walk over the desk. He needed more paper, but on top of the stack he had left there was something he did not expect. A small plate, filled with food. There was a sandwich, and apple identical to the ones on the tree he could see from the window. Lunch? He assumed it was, but how it got there was a mystery. He wasn't about to complain, however. Food was food, and he was hungry. He wolfed down the sandwich, leaving the apple for later. He guessed this was his only food until dinner, so he was going to make it last.

The next few days passed the same as this. Each day, Roy was woken up by Master Hawkeye, (although he had managed to get to his bed each night), was handed a plate of breakfast, and went about his studying. He had managed to get a good grip on what he was studying- well, at least he thought he had. The second and third book had explained the facts that the first had told him, which he was truly grateful about.

The problem of the meals kept arising, however. He had no idea how the same types of sandwich arrived at the same time, in the same place, every day without fail. He was greeted with dinner as well, and it had taken him a while to decide to savour these meals instead of worrying about where they were coming from.

The end of the week came a lot quicker than Roy would've liked. He handed his notes to Hawkeye, and was told to spend the next two days working on his chores and going into the town to pick groceries. He wasn't particularly familiar with the town, but he assumed he would be able to ask directions to the various places he was instructed to visit.

He wobbled out the front door-he hadn't had a chance to go outside in over a week- and down the path. He hadn't realised before how far it was into the town the previous time he went- the time he managed to escape from having dinner with Master Hawkeye. As he stumbled into town, he managed to locate one of the shops quickly- the greengrocers. He inquired about getting what he had been asked to retrieve, and was handed it in a paper bag and with a no-questions-asked attitude from the owner.

He was greeted with the same icy stare from the pharmacist when he went to pick up medicine for the older alchemist- he hadn't even realised he was sick- and in the butchers, where he handed over the list to be thrown a bag of food and told to get out.

Roy had been in the town for little over a week, but clearly he had already gained a reputation, and not a good one at that. He guessed it wasn't him, but who he was working for. Berthold Hawkeye came off as rude and stubborn, secluding himself in that big house just far enough out of town that no one would bother to bother him.

He muttered to himself on the way back from the village. The rude glances and whispered words had really got to him. It wasn't his fault- he needed to learn, and he thought this was the easiest way about it. They would be thanking in a few years. Ten. Twenty?

The bad mood was still with him as he entered the house, throwing the bags of food onto the counter in the kitchen, and leaving them there for Berthold to put away. He had no idea where everything went, and would probably be in more trouble if he put things away in the wrong place.

He stamped up the stairs, entering the small room that belonged to him. He threw his coat into the corner, and himself onto the bed (which unfortunately creaked loudly under his weight). He sat up after thirty seconds of feeling sorry for himself, and saw that, left neatly at the end of the bed, was another plate of food.

* * *

**A/N: I'm adding this chapter earlier than I hoped so i can keep up with the updates on ao3, so from now on, this will be updating every sunday. Thank you for your support!**


	3. Daughter

Roy had been living in the Hawkeye household for just over six months now. He had finally- _finally_\- got a grasp on the basics and history of alchemy. He could draw simple transmutation circles, and had once managed to transmute a wooden cup from the floorboards of his room- which he instantly regretted and couldn't fix for a whole three weeks.

His work was 'satisfactory', according to his teacher, and in his own mind, he was making good progress. The people in town were less cold than before, and the weather had warmed up considerably, so living in the rural town was much more enjoyable than when he first arrived. There were no more cold breezes in the room where he slept, the house looked cleaner, and generally, for him, everything was a better.

During his studies one day in the heat of summer, Roy went downstairs for a glass of water. The meals were still arriving on cue everyday, but whoever was delivering them was hardly going to know that he was thirsty. He made the trek three floors down stairs, and across the cold floor into the kitchen. He opened various cupboards, looking for a glass. He poured water into the glass when he eventually found one, and leaned against the counter, enjoying the cooler air of this room. The library was stuffy, and even with all the windows open, he still felt as though he was suffocating.

Roy turned around to set the glass down beside the sink, and out of the corner of his eye noticed movement from the corner of the kitchen. The light was most prominent in that corner, and he hadn't noticed before the young girl sitting in the corner. As he looked at her, she looked up at him, and her eyes widened.

"M-Mister Mustang!" She squeaked, and he was sure he looked as shocked as she was at meeting her.

There was an awkward silence for a moment as the two stared each other out, faces a mix of confusion and fear. The girl cleared her throat, and opened her mouth to speak.

"It's nice to meet you finally. My name is Riza Hawkeye. I'm Berthold's daughter," she explained, and a small smile passed over her lips, presumably at the situation.

"I'm Roy, but I'm sure your father has told you about me already. You don't have to call me 'mister Mustang', you know."

"That's what my father told me to call you. He said it's polite, since you're older than me and all."

"How old are you?" Roy inquired, trying to figure out from the way she dressed, spoke and sat, how much older he was.

"I'm fourteen." He nodded- two years. He was the same age as one of his sisters, but looked a lot older.

"Well, Riza, it's been nice meeting you today." He held out his hand for her to shake, and she stood up, taking his hand in hers and shaking it gently, almost as if she had never shaken hands with anyone before. He let go of her hand almost immediately, smiling down at her.

"You should probably go back to studying, you know. My father won't be happy if he finds out you've been slacking." She swallowed hard. "I won't tell him, don't worry."

Roy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You're probably right. I'll see you later, then." He turned away to leave the room, reaching the door in only a few strides. He briefly turned back, but she was already seated, head down, writing away. He continued out of the room, running back up the stairs to the stuffy room he was situated in before.

The summer passed in an instant, Roy spending the majority of it in the continually overheating library. He frequently visited the town, using the phone box in the town square to phone back to his home in Central. He didn't see Master Hawkeye's daughter again the rest of the summer, and often thought about how she was getting on. His alchemy was slowly- very, _very_ slowly- improving.

Riza Hawkeye was a quiet girl. She kept herself to herself. She had no choice- if she ever opened her mouth in public she was ridiculed, told her opinion didn't matter. Having who she had as a father didn't help. Everyone hated him more than they hated her. And to be fair, she hated him as well. He was annoying, and ever since her mother had died, he refused to talk to anyone in the town unless it was absolutely necessary.

Everyone who lived in a two-mile radius had nothing but praise for her mother- she was kind, caring, beautiful, and her father was the complete opposite of that. She attempted to avoid him at all costs, hiding out in her room for the majority of the day. It was easier when school was on, as she was there all day, and then could use the excuse of homework to stay away from him. She even hid out in the library, and had read almost every book in there.

Everything had changed when her father took on an apprentice. He had always sworn blind that he would never teach anyone, but this boy had begged, almost crying. She was thankful of his appearance- it meant her father was preoccupied by teaching him and had almost forgotten about her. However, he was taking up the library, and she was explicitly told not to bother him. That meant no books for her, and she had to borrow them from the smaller library in the town.

Her father had also told her that she was to cook for Mister Mustang. She was to bring him breakfast, lunch and dinner, and this meant coming home from school to make him food and deliver it to him personally. Since she was also instructed not to bother him, she had to just leave it sitting somewhere she knew he would be able to find it. After the first day, she got lazy, and just left the meals in the same place. It wasn't her fault if he didn't find it- it would've been his for being an idiot.

She almost began to resent the boy's presence in the house. She hadn't even met him and she was practically being asked to lick his shoes. Her father talked about him like the son he never had, and this only made her angrier.

Her opinion changed the day she met him. He wasn't anything like her father had described him, and he seemed practically…normal.

It took her a while to get accustomed to another person living in the house, and to be honest, she was glad of the distraction.


	4. Winter

September rolled by quickly, and it wasn't long before Roy learns that Winter comes quickly in the countryside. The heat of cars, and the sheer amount of people and the fires in their houses manage to keep Central warm all year round. Out here, however, there was little heat to begin with, and any heat that they did have just disappeared into the open air.

Roy wrote frantic letters back to Central, begging for warmer clothes and a coat to be sent out the house. He felt stupid for asking, but it was starting to get the point where his arms were permanently covered in goosebumps.

One frosty November morning, Roy begged Berthold for a favour.

"Please, let me study downstairs, in the sitting room. Upstairs, the library and my bedroom are both far too cold, and I could sit by the fire, and –"

"Do not disturb my daughter. She is doing work for school in there. As long as you're quiet, you may use the room."

Roy picked up the small pile of books, entering the sitting room. He tried to be as quiet as he possibly could, but Riza still looked up at him.

"I hope you don't mind me using this room. Its warmer than upstairs." He laughed nervously, glancing at the pages that surrounded her.

"No, no, it's fine." She shifted in her seat to move the paper off the table. He smiled at her as he set the books down, lifting the top one to read. He tucked himself into the corner seat beside the fire, silently turning the pages of the book.

The room was completely silent, apart the scratching of her pen and the turning of pages. The pair could work in this silence with out the other's presence bothering them. It was mid afternoon by the time either of them moved.

"Roy."

"Hm?" He lifted his head, to see the girl had abandoned her studying and was standing beside the door.

"Tea?" She asked, and disappeared after a single nod of his head. It was getting colder by the minute, and Roy was glad of a hot drink to warm him up. He set his book down, standing up to stretch.

It wasn't long before she returned with two teacups in one hand, and a plate of toast in the other. He rushed over to her to take the tea from her grip, and she carefully balanced her own teacup on the edge of the table. Roy went to pick his book back up, but Riza stopped him.

"Take a break. You won't remember anything if you study constantly. I'm pretty sure father will be testing you soon. You've been here for almost a year, after all."

"I suppose you're right." He set the book back on top of the pile, leaning back in the armchair. "How are you getting on with school?"

"It's fine. I have a lot to learn, with exams coming soon. But it's always like this at this time of year, so I'm used to it." She shuffled the papers, ordering them. "I only have this year and next, and then I can leave."

"Do you know what you're going to do after you leave? Will you study alchemy, like your father?"

She quickly brought her teacup to her mouth at the mention of her father.

"No."

And that was it. Conversation over. She downed her tea, and lifted the toast, and went back to writing endless sentences. He watched her until he finished his own tea. Did he hit a nerve? Does she not approve of alchemy? No, that can't be it; she probably would've refused to speak to him if that was the case. Maybe it was the mention of her father. He hadn't talked to her much before, and he didn't know what subjects to bring up and which to avoid around her, so he was as blind as anyone else.

He went back to his reading, and spent the next half an hour sitting, unmoving, while Riza continued with her studies. He looked up every time he finished a page to glance at her, but the whole time her head was down, eyes focused on the words in front of her. He gave up after a while, and this was when she finally moved. She stood up, stretching her limbs.

"I have to make dinner now," she explained, making her way over the door.

"Wait, so, do you make all the meals?" He asked, stopping her in her tracks.

Her eyes widened; he'd figured her out. "Yes," She whispered, voice barely audible.

"So, you've been leaving me meals every day?" She nodded once.

"Father said not to. If you didn't have the sense to make your own food, you didn't deserve to be here. That's what he told me. But… I didn't want to leave you without food, so I made the meals and left them. I was told not to bother you, after all."

She continued out of the room, and he noticed a faint blush across her cheeks. Roy sat in silence for a moment, before she burst back into the room.

"I'm sorry about stopping our conversation earlier. I'll explain some other time." At that, she scurried out of the room again, and this time was gone for good.

November is a quiet month, Roy discovered. Nothing happens, apart from the arrival of the package of warmer clothes from his mother. His alchemy is a lot better, according to Berthold, and he finally has something good to say in his calls back home.

"Boy."

Roy entered the room where Berthold was seated, questioning why he had suddenly called him in. Was he considering letting him go? He hadn't even finished learning basic alchemy, and they hadn't even touched on Flame Alchemy yet.

"You've been improving since you arrived last year."

Roy stared at him. He wasn't supposed to answer that, was he?

"I have to test you." Have to? He didn't quite believe that. Testing was not part of any official alchemy training, apart from the esteemed State Alchemist Exam. And Roy would no- he'd checked. Even though he knew 'have to' didn't come into it, he wasn't about to argue.

"You will be tested in an exam of your alchemy, outside in the garden. You may use anything you can carry out to the garden. You have one week to prepare."

Roy nodded, leaving the room. He wasn't one for words around his teacher, whereas usually he could talk for Amestris. He accredited this acute shyness to intimidation, but he knew he just had no idea what to say around a man that was so blunt.

The day of the exam rolled around quicker than Roy would've liked. It was colder when he woke up, and the prospect of snow was printed in large lettering on the front of the newspaper sheet slid under his door. He jumped out of bed, knowing that today of all days was one for the coat sent from his mother.

Fully dressed and a nervous wreck, Roy questioned why there was no breakfast left for hm. Usually Riza sneaked in while he was still asleep, leaving the food and managing not to disturb him, but there was nothing left today. He knew she was awake though; there was no way Berthold would've put the front page of the newspaper under his door.

As these thoughts ran through his head, a simple knock rung out through the room. He went over to open the door, swinging it open to reveal Riza, dressed in the biggest coat Roy had ever seen. She held in her hands a plate with his usual toast on it.

"I wanted to wish you good luck."

"With toast?" She glared.

"No, stupid. I can take the toast back, if you want. I'm still hungry enough to eat it."

"No, no, thank you. Really."

She smiled, turning to go back outside.

"Oh, and by the way…" her smile fell slightly. "It snowed overnight. I'm going to clear the garden the best I can, but Father is adamant you still do your test."

"It's fine."

Roy was always good at lying.

It was not, under any circumstances, fine.

Not the snow. Not the way Riza bit her lip any time she mentioned her father. Not the way she limped away and down the stairs. Not the way she was living.


	5. Transmutation

Roy sat on his bed, questioning what he was going to do with the ground frozen the way it was. There was no way his originally planned transmutation could work with the entire garden covered in even the lightest dusting of snow. He stared out the window at Riza's small figure walking out onto the lawn, shovel in hand. The shovel immediately put an idea into his head. He flew over to the window, throwing it open.

"RIZA!" He yelled, attracting her attention. "Don't bother clearing the snow. Let me do it!" His eyes were alight- he'd just had a great idea.

He ran downstairs, creating too much noise, but this idea was so good that he didn't care. He sprinted into the garden, grabbing the shovel from Riza's hands.

"Please don't ruin the garden…" Worry was painted clearly across her face, but he just smiled, not saying a word. He stepped carefully into the snow, digging out a circle first, then adding the other parts of his transmutation circle, until he ended up at the centre.

"Watch and learn!" He clapped his hands together, and Riza scurried behind the kitchen door. Roy slams his hands into the snow, and the circle immediately lights up with a bright blue light. The snow disappears, and is replaced by an elegant fountain in the middle of the lawn. Riza opens the door cautiously, putting one foot out onto the ground first, then the other. She wanders over to the fountain, one hand outstretched to touch it.

"How did you… how do you know how to do this? I'm pretty sure no textbook had this in it."

"Well, no. But I could alter a version of a transmutation circle I saw in a book back when I was in Central. I wrote it down and brought it with me because it was cool."

"My father will like this. But I don't know if-"

"Riza!" The blonde girl spun around to see her father standing at the door. "What have I told you about bothering my apprentice?"

"I… you… I'm sorry!" Her eyes widened, and with every step he took closer to the pair, she stepped further back, before she bumped into the fountain. Berthold's eyes were immediately drawn up to it.

"You did a nice job. You can stay another year." He nodded at Roy, glared at Riza, and turned back to walk into the house. Riza didn't move, didn't breathe, until he was out of sight, before collapsing onto the side of the fountain.

"Hey, are you okay?''

"Yes."

The pair sat in silence- it was clear she didn't want to talk, and he wasn't going to force her into divulging information she was uncomfortable with. She stared down at her feet, barely moving beside him, but he could feel that she was close to tears. She stood up suddenly, running back into the house and back out again with a brown bag slung over her shoulder.

"I have school. I'm late as it is, so I need to go."

"I'll walk with you," he offered, pushing himself off the fountain.

"No, it's fine. You'll get into trouble with my father."

"I don't care. I'm walking you."

He held the door open for her, and they escaped out the back door. He could use the excuse of going into the town for a new book, but he had no idea what Riza would say when she arrived at the school. He fished around in his pocket for a handkerchief, and handed it to her silently. She took it from him, wiping her eyes.

It was a long walk to the school, Roy discovered- that's why Riza got up so early. It was small, and the snow was still heavy there. Faces gawked out the window at them, and he paused, letting Riza go inside. She turned as she reached the door.

"I promised I'd tell you one day, and I will." With that, she disappeared inside the building, and he saw her take a seat by the window of the outside classroom. She gave a shy wave, and he waved back, walking away from the school.

Why was she so upset about her father? Maybe it wasn't- maybe it was someone, or something else. But his mere presence, even the mention of his name scared her, causing her to retract into her shell, bite her lip, leave the room. Roy was determined to find out what her father had done, but he could hardly go up to him and ask him directly.

Roy hadn't even realised he'd reached the Hawkeye's house again, but he was faced with the sudden appearance of the brick wall. His feet had brought him where he wanted to go with his mind having no say in it. Apprehension took over, and he was unsure whether it was a good idea to go back inside. He had to though, he _had to_. Even if not for his alchemy, for Riza.

* * *

Berthold hadn't even noticed he was gone for almost an hour. He went into his study to find the man slumped in his seat, pill bottle one hand, pen in the other. The pen moved over the paper at an alarming rate, and Roy could barely make out the words the pen was forming.

"Ah, Roy. Well done this morning. You outperformed yourself. I didn't think you were capable of something like that."

"Thank you, sir."

"I need your help now. You need a specialty if you want to be a good alchemist, and well… I need help with my research, so that'll give you something to do now. Your basic alchemy is good, and I don't think there's much more I can teach you on that front. Keep going over it though." Roy nodded. Was he going to teach him flame alchemy finally? It had been barely a year, but maybe this was the moment.

"Flame alchemy is a rare type of alchemy. As far as I know, I am the only alchemist in the east in pursuit of its qualities. It's complicated, and I don't have enough of an idea to even be able to form a transmutation circle. And that, my boy, is where you come in. All the top alchemists in Central have hundreds of researchers at their disposal. And you will be my researcher, my assistant. You will help me scour every book in the country, if needs be, to find the secrets of flame alchemy. I also imagine we have to interpret some parts ourselves, but my general knowledge of alchemy will be good enough to do so. Are you able to help me?"

Roy nodded, but his insides turned sour. He had come all this way just to become an assistant to some old man who wished he was researching in Central instead? No way. He could not put up with this. He wanted to learn Flame Alchemy, not help someone else learn it. Nevertheless, he agreed. Maybe he would be able to learn something himself.

Books arrived, as requested, from all over the country. Some books were filled with diagrams, messily drawn transmutation circles, and minimum description. Some were purely text, but said text contained the instructions to creating fire from alchemy and a few ingredients.

None of this was what Berthold wanted. None of this was what Roy wanted either, but he shut up, and shut himself away in the library, scribbling words out, decoding, rewriting.

Months passed. Roy didn't move on from the research. As much as he had complained initially, he had become addicted to learning. He kept parts of the books hidden from his master, keeping pages to himself.

Roy grew older. The seasons passed. The house got dirtier, more broken. His reputation all but disappeared. And he didn't see Riza Hawkeye again.

* * *

**A/N: thank you for reading this, and special thanks to user hawkstang who has been reviewing this ever chapter! It means a lot uwu**


	6. Request

It had been a year and a half since Roy and Riza had had a proper conversation. There had been passing words, as it was inevitable that they would have to interact. However, Roy avoided her and her father as much as he possibly could, absorbing himself into his alchemy research.

It had been a year and a half since Berthold Hawkeye had watched Roy turn his entire garden into a transmutation circle just to clear some snow. That same day was the one when he asked Roy to help him with his study of flame alchemy. Roy had agreed, begrudgingly so.

It had been a year and a half since Roy promised to himself that he would find out why Riza hated her father so much. He had almost forgotten about that promise, and it was only now, when he sat alone in the library, lamp beside him, surrounded by books, that he remembered.

He would have to make more of an effort to talk to Riza if he wanted to find anything out, but getting her alone, and trying to weasel the information out of her without raising the suspicions of her father were easier said than done. Roy slammed the book closed, adding on top of the ever-growing pile beside him. He rubbed his eyes, glancing up at the clock on the wall. It was getting late, and he hadn't figured anything out in days. Maybe he was just tired; he was barely sleeping in the hope of figuring the out as quickly as possible. Now he reflected on it though, he decided that wasn't really the best of ideas. Roy flopped onto his back, knocking one of the piles of books over. The moment he hit the ground, a knock came to the library door.

"Come in!" He sat up straight, fixing his hair. The slight figure of Riza appeared as the door opened. She had grown taller from the last time he had properly looked at her. Her hair brushed her shoulders, and she looked a lot older than he remembered.

"My father wants to speak to you." There it was. The biting of her lip that Roy remembered so, so clearly. Whatever it was that upset her was still happening, Roy concluded, and he mentally kicked himself for locking himself away and not getting involved in whatever was going on. He got up, walking to meet her at the door.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm quite good, in fact. Just the usual troubles, you know?" She laughed, but her laugh wasn't happy. It was the exact opposite- nervous, scared. She didn't want to talk to him, but there was no one else to talk to.

They entered the small room that Berthold claimed to be his study. Riza hung back beside the door, and Roy took a seat beside the desk, as gestured by Berthold.

"Roy. We have a favour to ask of you."

"No, you have a favour to ask of him. I have nothing to do with this," Riza interjected, clearly defending herself. Roy was surprised to hear this; maybe she was finally standing up to her father. But after a swift glare, she was silent again.

"Riza has a dance in her school this week, as she is leaving at the end of the month. I would ask that you accompany her to the dance, so she doesn't have to go alone."

"What? A dance? Are you sure? I mean-"

"I would ask that you accompany her," Berthold repeated, staring right into Roy's eyes.

"I suppose I can go. When is it?"

"Tomorrow." Roy sighed. Dances weren't his sort of thing- they certainly hadn't had any when he was at school, but then again, he had gone to an all boy's school.

He got up to leave, and Riza followed him out of the study.

"This wasn't my idea. You don't have to actually go, if you don't want to. You can just drop me off and then go into town," she confessed, anger evident in her eyes.

"No, I don't mind. I've never been to a dance before, and I suppose I should learn what goes on."

"Well, alright. You're supposed to get me a flower thing, for my wrist, and all. My father expects you to do this properly."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it tomorrow." She nodded once, and scurried away to her room.

Roy wasn't 100% unwilling to go to the dance, he just didn't want to give off the wrong impression to anyone that knew Riza. The fact that he'd never been to a formal event was also ever present- and, to top it all off, he didn't even know how to dance.

The florist in the town was small, and Roy was inexperienced in the world of flowers. After ten minutes of poring over the flowers in buckets around the perimeter of the shop, he gave, up and asked the florist for help.

"I need one of those wrist things," he asked, and the woman at the counter laughed, seemingly aware of what he was asking for.

"What colour is the dress?" As she asked the question, it struck Roy that he probably should've asked Riza what she was wearing. He shrugged his shoulders, and the woman laughed again.

"We'll go with white then. That goes with everything." The woman took a length of black ribbon from under the counter, shooing Roy out of the road as she plucked flowers from the various containers. "This for the school dance tonight?" Roy nodded, and she laughed once more. This woman seemed to laugh an awful lot, Roy thought. "My son is in the leaving class. Why are you going? You're a bit too old to be a pupil, right?"

"I'm taking a girl, also in the leaving class." He didn't want to say more; he didn't want it to seem like Riza was incapable of getting a date- which he was sure she could.

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Riza Hawkeye." The florist's face fell.

"Lovely girl. Unfortunate situation, though." He was about to ask about the situation she mentioned, but another customer came in, and she finished his corsage while talking to the other customer. He passed her some cens, and thanked her for her help.

Roy spent a long time trying to make himself look like he really wanted to attend this dance. He washed his face, slicking back his hair and dressing himself in a suit. He felt uncomfortable wearing this, but he didn't really have any other choice. HE dragged himself downstairs to wait for Riza.

She appeared only a few moments after he reached the bottom of the stairs. She was dressed in a long dress, blue, with silver earrings sparkling beside her face. Her hair wasn't much different- the front parts were clipped back. She descended elegantly, her dress brushing each step. Roy fastened the corsage onto her wrist, and she hastily said goodbye to her father before practically running out the door.

The pair walked to the school in silence. The sun had almost set by the time they got there, casting an orange glow over the whole town.

"You look… really nice." Roy struggled to find words- he wanted to compliment her, but he didn't want to sound creepy.

"Thanks. You don't scrub up too bad yourself." She smiled, a genuine smile this time. They continued to walk, silence taking over again.


	7. Story

The tickets Riza had purchased for the dance were written with each person's name in big, fancy print. Riza handed them over to the teacher at the door, who looked at Roy almost disapprovingly before letting them in. The hall Riza led him to was packed full of people dressed in their fanciest clothes. Tables were set up around the perimeter of the room; covered in tablecloths, silver cutlery set at each place.

"We're sitting down here," Riza pointed, gesturing at the two places. Place cards were set there, one reading Riza Hawkeye, and the other reading 'Riza Hawkeye +1'. Roy moved Riza's seat out for her, allowing her to sit before he did so himself. He'd seen people in the bar back at home doing this, and decided he should do the same.

"You don't have to do that. It's not like we're actually a couple, like most people here." She set her bag on her knee, leaning onto the table. "I'm glad you came with me though. It makes me look like I have friends." She laughed dryly, lifting a fork and turning it over in her hand.

Roy didn't really know how to react to that, and sat in silence until the rest of the table filled up with Riza's classmates. They were all talking loudly, and he could tell from her nervous fidgeting that Riza was uncomfortable.

"Hey," he said, softly, so to just get her attention and not that of all the people around them. It worked, and she lifted her gaze from her lap, looking up at him. "I'm really sorry about not talking to you for all that time."

"It's fine. Honestly. I've been pretty busy, what with organizing myself for school finishing." She glanced round the room, pausing to look at some of the individuals. "I've probably done more work than most of the people in this room."

"I'm sure you're looking forward to leaving," Roy said with a laugh, but Riza shook her head.

"Coming her gives me something to do. It gets me out of the house, and… away from him. I think that once I leave here, he'll make me work for him, at least until I find a job of my own. But I won't be cooking and cleaning, like I am now. It'll be like what you're doing. Scouring books for information I know nothing about. And I don't want to do that." She gasped quietly at the end, putting her hand over her mouth. Roy just nodded knowingly, a sad look in his eyes.

"You're nodding, but you don't know why I don't want to stay there, do you?" He shook his head; feeling like the little he had found out was already an invasion of her privacy. "I'll tell you then. Not now though. Later, on the way home."

"Alright. If you change your mind, don't be afraid to tell me. It's your business, not mine."

"I need to tell someone. Get it out of my system, you know."

He didn't know, and the way she was talking about it scared him. Thankfully, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the first course. The pair sat in silence, along with the rest of the hall, eating the food with barely a whisper passed among the many. The bowls of soup were replaced with roast dinners, which in turn were replaced by apple pie. After the eating was done, half of the people in the room were immediately on their feet, and a record player in the corner started playing some sort of classical music. The dancing was slow, each person just about turning on the spot. There was a lot of stepping from side to side, and Roy assumed that that is how you danced.

"It's not very interesting to look at, don't you think?" Riza spoke up for the first time in a while.

"I don't really know. I've never seen dancing like this before."

"They used to run dances in the town hall. They were a lot more fun than this; no fancy dinner, and literally everyone danced. It was more of an event, with a type of folk dancing. I miss going to things like that."

Roy watched her as she spoke, her eyes melancholic as she thought back. Her face had softened, no longer looking nervous and unsure. He took to his feet, standing in front of her and offering her his hand.

"Do you want to dance?" Riza looked from his outstretched hand up to his face, and back to his hand. She then gently placed her own hand in his, pulling herself up.

"Do you even know how to dance?" She asked, as they took their place along the fringes of the dancing crowd.

"Not really. Do you?"

"I've read about it in books." She took the hand that he was holding and placed it on her back, taking her own hand and putting it on his shoulder. She lifted his free hand, taking it in her own. "I think that's it."

Roy glanced around the room. Sure enough, the majority of the other couples had taken the same hold, and had a lot more movement than the last time. Riza stepped backwards suddenly, and he was forced to move with her. She was matching their timing to the rest of the room, and to do so she had to pull Roy closer to her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as she stood on his feet for the umpteenth time.

"It's fine. I'm pretty sure you're doing better than me, at any rate."

Their waltzing had taken time to get it right, but after they did get it right, they were attracting the attention of their fellow dancers. Their eyes followed the lines Roy and Riza made on the floor, gasping in awe of their fluid movements. Whispers were passed around, and Riza's ears caught them as they moved past the other couples.

"_Are they a couple?"_

"_Wait, is that Riza Hawkeye?"_

"They're really good!"

"I can't believe she actually turned up."

"And she brought a date and all. Who even is he?"

These comments didn't get past Roy's ears either, but he chose to ignore them, hoping that they would stop and he could just enjoy the time with Riza. But as soon as they reached the edge of the room, she dropped his hands, walking away. He followed after her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stop.

"I want to go home, Roy. It was a stupid idea to come here. There was a reason I didn't particularly want to come, and that was it." He face was a mixture of emotions that Roy could barely read, but he listened to her words.

"You go wait outside. I'll get your bag." She nodded, pushing her way through the crowds to get to the door they had entered through. He walked in the opposite direction, to the table they were sitting at only twenty minutes earlier. He lifted the bag that she had left on her chair, making his way through the mass of people to reach the door. The teacher that had let them in earlier was still stationed there, and glared at him yet again as he left the building.

He found Riza outside, leaning against the wall, arms folded. He handed her the small bag, and she started walking away from the school.

"Is it always like that?" He enquired, running a few steps to keep up with her quick pace.

"Pretty much. I've started to tune it out, but it was annoying today. I don't know. I just didn't want to have to put up with it."

They walked a little more, an awkward silence falling between them like a barrier. He didn't want to make her talk, but he knew she needed to, to get all her emotions out. It was dark already, and she paused at a bridge over the river that flowed from out where the school was into the middle of the town.

"I guess we're far enough from both the school and the house for me to tell you now."

She sat down on the stone wall, and he took his place beside her, ready to comfort her if needed. Riza took a deep breath, composing herself, before starting her story.

"My mother died when I was four. She was kind, and beautiful, and always looked out for me and my father. She worked in the flower shop in town, and everyone in the town absolutely adored her. One day, she got sick. She always said it was just a cold, and she'd be back up on her feet in a few days, but she never managed to shake it. When she died, my father was devastated. He secluded himself, and me, in the house. I didn't go to school for a month, because my father refused to take me, and I was too young to go on my own. That's when I lost the few friends I had. When I eventually returned to school, it's because my teacher at the time came to the house to bring me each morning.

"My father's grief eventually turned to anger, and he started to take this anger out on me. I was five when he started hitting me. I was seven when I had to learn to cook and clean. I took that upon myself. I didn't clean his office, or make him food. But even a seven year old knows that living off bread and vegetables isn't the nutritious, and I tried to make half decent meals. I could cook properly by the time I was eight, and that's when my father found out about what I had been doing. He made me cook for him too, then. It's pretty much been the same ever since. I suppose people have it worse than me, but…" She choked on the last few words, trying to hide the tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'm so sick of living like this! I can't live with someone who only sees me as a servant, not his own daughter! I can't live in fear, constantly afraid that it wont just be his hand, or a book, but it'll seriously injure, or kill me! I don't want to live with someone who abuses me! Just because someone died, and because of something that isn't my fault…"

Riza turned back to Roy, tears running down her cheeks. He just gazed at her sadly, not knowing what to say to this confession. He wiped her tears, and she managed a shaky smile through her sobs.

"Thank you, Roy. For listening to me. No one has ever listened to the whole story before." She stood up quickly, straightening her dress. "We should get back. The others will probably be leaving soon."

Roy lifted himself from the bridge, finding her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, whispering that she'd be okay. Riza smiled sadly, almost shaking her head. She turned round to face him as they walked down the path, conversing in idle chit-chat. They had almost reached the house again by the time she spoke up properly.

"Thank you for tonight. For taking me out, and for listening."

"You're welcome. And thank you, for telling me."

They stood in an awkward silence for a few moments, before Roy bent his head slightly, placing a gentle kiss on Riza's lips. Her eyes widened momentarily, shocked by this sudden move, before she returned the kiss just as gently. He broke apart from her after just a few seconds, an embarrassed smile on his face.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I just-"

"_Don't be_. It's nice to know that someone actually cares about me." She stepped away, opening the door to the house and holding it open for him to enter. She closed the door after him, watching as he walked up he stairs. Then she covered her face in her hands, smiling like an idiot.

* * *

**A/N: idk son this is eh buT **


	8. Scream

Riza Hawkeye graduated from school, and immediately found a job going for her in the bookshop in town. She was lucky- there was a big difference between the number of people in her class leaving and the number of jobs in the town. In fact, most of the people she had known had moved away, mostly to East City or Central. It was probably a year before she heard from any of them again.

She was also lucky that she could leave the house for most of the day, but still be back to make sure that the house was cleaned, and her father and Roy had got food. God only knows what they'd do without her.

She hadn't had any 'moments' like the one after the dance with Roy, and truth be told, she was glad. She didn't want to have a relationship with him, no matter how much she may have liked him. He was her father's apprentice, that was all. They had no possible future, especially in light of what he had been talking about doing.

"I'm going to join the military. I'd like to take the state alchemist exam, and if I don't pass, I'll join the normal way, like everyone else."

"Are you sure? You've heard about the fighting in the East. They're saying that it's just skirmishes, but do you really believe that? Rumour has it that there has been military involvement. Do you want to join the military to kill people?" Riza begged, anger apparent in her eyes.

"I don't want to join to kill people. I want to protect them. I want to protect people who can't do it themselves." He looked sadly at her.

"You don't understand. I've heard that said before. I've seen people from this town leave the town to 'help people', and then not return. I don't want that to happen to you." She turned on her heel, storming up the stairs. She didn't know why she came out with that- it's not like it was going to change his mind.

Another year passed, and then another. Winter came quickly, quicker than Riza would've wanted. She knew that this was when her father's conditions, and she had to take extra measures to make sure he didn't die. As much as she hated him, the money he got from performing alchemy kept the family afloat, and if the money stopped, she didn't know how she was supposed to cope.

She ordered extra blankets in from the furniture shop, making sure Roy, who he didn't complain about too much, gave them to him. She brought him hot soup at least once a day, and made sure the dinners were hot. Riza still spent most of her time avoiding him, and even at nineteen, she was still petrified of what he could possibly do to her.

It was a cold day in mid January when her father specifically requested her presence in his office. She brought him his dinner, along with his medicine, and took a seat in front of the desk. Silence hung in the air as he picked through his food and swallowed his medicine. She wished she wasn't in here, but it would've been as bad anywhere else in the house- Roy was in Central for the week, taking his State Alchemist exam.

"So, Riza. I've done it. I've finally done it." Berthold's eyes were alight, with a passion she had never seen on anyone else before. It was almost scary, and she didn't dare look up again.

"Done what, father?" She kept her formalities- scared, oh so scared of what he would do if she didn't.

"I've figured out flame alchemy. The only person to do so, I might think." He slid a piece of paper towards her; with an alchemical array written out with the most meticulous writing she'd ever seen. Her hand went immediately to her mouth to stop any noise from coming out.

Her eyes ran over the array. It was bigger than a transmutation circle, she thought, with distinct patterns running around it. She had no idea what any of it meant, but the thought of the power it must have scared her.

"I want you to keep this safe."

"What? Okay. That's fine with me." Riza reached across the table to lift the page, but her father's hand stopped her.

"No. No good alchemist would entrust his paperwork to anyone, especially since it's not encoded. What happens if it gets lost? Burnt? What if someone steals it? No. Riza. You'll be keeping it somewhere else." He rummaged in his desk drawer, pulling out a fancy looking pen and vials of different coloured inks. "Your back."

Riza stood up suddenly, backing into the door. She saw the look on her father's face- he was deadly serious. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was happy to look after a piece of paper; she could file it away and conveniently forget about it. She wasn't prepared to do this, though. She clenched her fist. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Riza."

Her eyes closed, almost unwillingly, and she stepped forward. Her breathing was erratic, her heart racing. When she opened her eyes, they were filled with tears.

"Okay." Her voice shook. Her hands shook. Her entire body was shaking. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt, facing away from her father. The thin material slipped to the ground.

"Go ahead."

_This is what she would've wanted._

_This is what my mother would want._

She lived to please her father. Her mother had wanted her to do this too. Her mother had lived to please Berthold Hawkeye, and he had thrown it back in their faces.

The instant the pen touched her skin, Riza bit into her lip. She wouldn't let out any noise. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She could feel the pen dragging over her skin. It was painful. But she wouldn't scream.

At the end of the first hour, Berthold was still not done. The pain was becoming unbearable, and Riza had broken into a cold sweat. She was shaking, but still her father continued.

Then the pen lifted. And Riza opened her mouth, letting out a scream that encompassed all the pain she had received over the years. She had never yet shown any signs of weakness. _Never._

"Go."

She didn't have to be told twice. She lifted her shirt from the ground, throwing the door open and running up the stairs. She flung herself into the bathroom, positioning her head over the toilet, heaving. She stumbled into her bedroom, lying on her stomach on top of her bed. Her back was numb with pain, and she hadn't stopped crying the entire time.

Riza lay in the dark of her room, running over what had just happened in her head.

She had just become a transmutation circle.


	9. Goodbye

"You're back."

"Well observed," Roy laughed, standing on the train platform with Riza. She took a few steps towards him, wrapping her arms around his chest in a tight embrace. He paused, unsure why she was doing this, but gently put his own arms around her. She winced slightly as his hands touched her back, but he didn't notice.

"I missed you," she whispered.

The walk back to the house was surprisingly quick. Riza was more nervous about entering the house now than ever before, but she didn't mention that anything was wrong.

"How did it go?"

"Eh. I didn't pass, but I suppose I expected that. I signed up normally though."

"Oh. Well I'm sorry to hear that you didn't pass, but I suppose you'll have a ball being in the military." Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

"Riza. I'm joining the military because I want to help people. You of all people should know that."

"I do! And I want to help people as well, everyone does, but… I've considered joining the military myself, but I don't think it's the right sort of thing."

"I think it's the right thing for me. I'm sorry, Riza. I'm leaving at the end of the week."

She simply stared at him, unsure of how to reply to this. She couldn't say she was happy- he knew she wasn't, wouldn't ever be.

"Fine."

Riza opened the door for him, letting him into the hall first.

"You should tell him."

"I'm going to."

Their exchanges were short, and Riza always spat her words. She was unwilling to discuss his joining the military, and instead confined herself to either her room or the kitchen. Roy spent the remainder of the week packing his room up, putting it into the case he brought with him. She refused to help him, as she might have before. She didn't want to ruin the peace between them by yelling, so distancing herself was the best she could do.

Friday came quicker than any of the members of the house would've liked. Roy's train didn't leave until eight o'clock, so Riza made him a dinner, and the three of them sat down to eat together for the first time. Not a word was passed between the Hawkeyes and Roy, and the food was gone after only a few minutes, everyone refusing to even look at each other. Roy anxiously glanced up at the clock every few minutes, until he eventually decided he could leave. He stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back with a bang.

"I should get going. Thank you so much for teaching me, Master Hawkeye," he announced, with a slight bow of his head. He left the room, picking his case up from the hallway. Riza jumped up after him, following out the door, ignoring the breathy call of her name from her father. She ran into the garden, down the path and out into the street, not caring for the fact that it was cold in the evening and she didn't have a coat.

"Roy!" She yelled, stopping him in his tracks. She caught up with him, and fell into step beside him without another word.

They reached the train station within minutes, and stood on the windy platform in silence while they waited for the train. Riza faced away from Roy, in the direction the train would be coming from.

"Are you excited for your life in central?" She turned around, hair whipping across her face in the wind. "I'm sure it's completely different from out here."

"It is. A lot louder, a lot busier. I suppose it'll be nice to see people I haven't seen in a while again." Riza's face fell ever so slightly, and she turned back to watch for the train.

"I'll miss you, you know."

"I'm sure you will. I give it a week before you've forgotten about me."

"Riza, I could never-"

"Please don't leave me here with him!" Riza gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

"I.. Riza, I have to go. I already have everything sorted at the academy, for my family back in central, I can't just pull out now!" He put a hand out to comfort her, and she took it gratefully.

"If you need me, please make sure to phone the military academy. I don't know if I'll have my own phone, but if you ask for me, I'm sure they'll let you talk to me."

"Okay. I will."

The train pulled out not long after, and Roy pulled Riza in close to hug her.

"Good luck." She smiled sadly at his remark.

"You too."

He stepped onto the train, waving from the window as it pulled off into the night. Riza stood alone, defeated. She said she would stop him from going, and she had failed even that.


	10. Father

The Hawkeye household was seemingly silent after the departure of Roy Mustang. It had been almost a month since he had left, and Riza was sure that her father was sadder about him leaving than she was. True to his word, he hadn't forgotten about her, and they talked on the phone whenever he had the time to spare.

He told her about the new friend he'd made- Hughes, he called him. He described, in meticulous detail, every aspect of the training he'd gone through so far, and how much he was enjoying himself. Riza hated to admit it, but he sounded a lot happier than he had ever done while living with her and her father.

She asked him about alchemy, and he insisted he was still studying it, but she wasn't quite sure about that. She asked about his family, and he skimmed over the details, not wishing to tell her everything. She could tell he was lying about a lot of things, but didn't want to bore him with the stories of what she was doing. She didn't want to say, but he never asked.

Riza spent most of her time looking after her father, whose health had taken a turn for the worse. She had quit her job in the bookstore, dedicating all her time to looking after him. As much as she hated the man, she couldn't bear to see him die, especially not in front of her. She kept him dosed up on medicine, kept him well fed, and kept him warm. She still managed to ignore him for the most part, but checked in on him every couple of hours.

She didn't really know why she bothered- he'd finished his research on flame alchemy, and if he died, she could easily sell the secrets to any alchemist that wanted them for enough money to live off forever. But she didn't want to. She didn't want to sell any part of her body to anyone at all. She didn't want to expose the secrets to any alchemist on the earth, and she didn't want her father to die.

The house seemed to be permanently silent. Riza rarely talked to her father, and he rarely spoke a word to her either. She kept thinking back to the days when Roy had made a ruckus with his alchemy. She didn't like alchemy particularly, but she missed it. Her father wasn't up to doing anything alchemic, and instead sat in his room, looking sorry for himself.

There was an unexpected knock at the door one day in early spring, and Riza reluctantly dragged herself to answer it. She flung the door open to see Roy Mustang standing on the doorstep, wearing his blue military uniform.

"Hello. I hope you don't mind me dropping by like this."

"I don't mind, I just wished you'd given me some more warning," she mumbled, holding the door open for him.  
"Well, you've surprised me alright."

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Riza," a raspy voice called. Riza dashed into her father's bedroom, a worried expression plastered on her face.

"Yes, father?"

"Who was at the door?" He could barely raise his voice enough for Riza to hear him, and she had to kneel by his bed to make out a word he was saying.

"It was Roy. He came for a visit."

"Send him in here."

"Are you sure? I mean, you haven't been very well, are you sure you're up to visitors?"

"Send him in, please." Riza was shocked by his words- he'd barely even wanted her in the room, and suddenly he was requesting the presence of Roy. She straightened his blankets, nodding silently. She left the room, gesturing to Roy to go in.

"I'll make some tea." She escaped to the kitchen, making preparations for afternoon tea.

"Roy. Please, take a seat." Roy shook his head, defiantly, standing at the end of the aging man's bed.

"I won't be staying long."

"So. You actually joined the military." Roy simply nodded his head; he didn't want to get into an argument with someone so ill.

"I came back for something else though."

"Oh? So this was a planned visit."

"Yes." Roy paused to take a deep breath. "I want you to tell me all you know about flame alchemy."

Berthold's eyes bored into Roy's skull, not answering his question.

"At least give me notes, or something! I need this, it's important! I need to become a State Alchemist."

"Roy. Come here," Berthold wheezed, and Roy took a few steps closer to his bed. Berthold coughed loudly, covering his mouth with his hand. His balled his hand up, setting it beside him.

"It's finished."

"What's finished?"

"Flame Alchemy. I've perfected it."

"What?! Why didn't you say earlier? Notes, do you have notes?"

"I don't."

Roy stared at his teacher, at Riza's father, at this man he had once respected. He coughed again, and this time his hand didn't reach his mouth in time. Blood dribbled down his chin, and Roy rushed over to hold his head up straight.

"You've been a great help, Roy…"

"No, you can't die, we'll get a doctor, you'll be fine!"

"My time has come."

"What about flame alchemy, I need to know about it!"

"Riza…"

"What about her?"

"She knows. She has it. The secret."

Berthold coughed again, and his eyes fluttered closed. Roy shook him, but knew it was no use. He stood up, slowly, stepping away from the body. He didn't know what to do; no one had died in front of him before. He turned his back on his old teacher, walking towards the door. It took his hand a moment to reach the handle, but he eventually opened the door and found himself standing in the corridor outside. Riza appeared from the kitchen, two teacups in her hands.

"I brought the tea!" She seemed almost cheery, offering one to Roy, who couldn't move.

"What happened? Is everything okay?" Roy couldn't answer; only just managing to point into the room he had just come out of. Riza rushed past him, into her father's room. She dropped the teacup remaining in her hand, china smashing against the wooden floor. Her hands flew to her face, and she tentatively took a few steps towards her father, before stopping herself.

"He's dead." Her voice sounded lost, confused, and Roy walked towards her, putting an arm around her shoulders. She brushed him off, walking back into the hall.

"There's nothing we can do. We have to organize his funeral. I doubt anyone else will want to come." She picked up the phone, dialing the number of the town's small funeral director.

The body was removed within the hour, and Roy and Riza sat in silence in the sitting room.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. I never really liked him; you know that. It's just a shock. He never let on just how sick he was."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I suppose I'll stay here. This is my house now, and I suppose I can sell some of the stuff we have lying around to make money."

"Why don't you come back to Central with me?" Roy offered, smiling sadly at nothing.

"No. I need to stay here. Besides, you're busy. I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"Fine, fine. If your mind's made up, there's nothing I can do. I'll stay with you until after the funeral, and then I'll have to head back. Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"I'm old enough to look after myself. And besides, is that not what I've been doing all these years anyway?"

Roy laughed, and the silence returned between them. It was almost funny- Riza had spent all these years wishing for the death of her father, but when it was actually happening, she was just confused. She didn't really know what to do with herself. She couldn't just waltz back into the bookstore, demanding her job back. No, she would find something. She was strong. She could get through this. It might just take a while.

* * *

**AN: I'm super bad at updating. Sorry. **


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